It was dark, cold, and wet. Rain droplets stained my cheeks as I tilted my head up, examining the sky. Faint thunder could be heard in the distance, along with lightning that streaked the sky. Not only was the storm growing closer, the cascade began to trickle down harshly, the heavy wind adding support to the droplets and slashing them like blades across my skin. It was beginning to become difficult to even see in such rough weather conditions, but I managed. I managed only for him as I sprinted towards the north, to a place that I liked to claim as my secondary home.

I ran through the empty streets, drenched, dashing through several puddles as the storm raged on with each clash of my foot against the concrete. I was soaring, the wind dancing under my feet as I picked up speed. It almost become difficult to keep up balance, and I felt like I was literally about to be blown across the sky. I felt a feeling of freedom for a moment, but just as that sense came and went, I also felt a more overwhelming sensation of darkness through the night’s wrath. There was no sunlight through this madness, and it truly showed how desperate I was to get myself over here. I wanted to see my beloved.

Finally, I could see it; I could see the house that I’ve shared so many heart-warming memories in. As if those memories were my motivation, I all-out sprinted towards that doorstep, ready to be embraced by the warmth of a home, and my dearest. I almost tripped as I stopped at a sudden halt right before the door. This is it, I get to see you. Your beautiful face, your dough-like eyes, and your flawless, perfectly shaped lips that I missed being able to claim as mine.

Panting and out of breath, I was about to raise my arm up and knock on the door, but as if on cue, the door swung open and a tall figure had his arms firmly wrapped around me, pressing my head up against his chest. His heart was beating in a pace almost a quick as mine, but not in the same concept. His was beating from pure anticipation, and that’s when I knew he had been waiting. He had been waiting for me to return to him, too. It was moments like this, arms firmly wrapped around each other, left in the silence of nothing but beating hearts that I felt like I had fallen in love all over again.

“Minho . . .” I breathed, my breaths were jagged, and my teeth chattering from the cold, “I—“

He was watching me intently, his eyes filled with warmth and adoration of the person before him. He smiled his usual, breathtaking smile out of pure happiness, letting out a sigh of relief, and before I could even begin my sentence, his lips claimed mine. It was a short, simple kiss, but it was also the most powerful. It was the feeling of being marked all over again; a feeling of reunion towards your beloved after being apart for quite the period of time. Although, I had only been gone for a few weeks, but a few weeks can seem like years depending on who you are waiting to return to.

“I missed you, Jonghyun,” he spoke, honestly, “let’s get inside.”

With my arms locked around his neck, he lightly lifted my feet up off the ground, leaving my legs dangling as he held me with one arm and his heel, carrying me and walking us back into the house. I felt so comfortable being like this, and my drenched clothes and damp hair didn’t even matter anymore. I felt warm the moment he wrapped his arms around me when he walked out that door, and on fire when our lips collided. Getting drenched by my own self didn’t seem to matter to him either; he was too busy taking in all of what had just happened, right before his doorstep.

As he walked us across his small foyer, I peeked up slightly from over his shoulder and took a petite glance around the house; it was very dark. The only dim source of light that lit the place came from the light above his stove in the kitchen, which from what I remembered, always stayed on anyhow. Was he sleeping before I came here?

Prying me out of my thoughts, he laid down on his couch, pulling me down with him, chest to chest. Although I felt slightly guilty for drenching him and his couch, I pushed that issue aside and switched my position, getting comfortable, crossing my arms over his chest and laying my head down. I picked my head up from my arms, and stared into his eyes through the darkness, trying to read what they were indicating towards me. They were glinting with curiosity and awe.

“What are you thinking?” I questioned, while tracing circles on torso, through the fabric of his shirt, at the same duration.

“I missed all this so much,” he sighed, pulling me closer to him.

“Min, I wasn’t gone very long. We talked on the phone . . .” I tried my best to reassure him, but I myself knew that I felt the same exact way he did.

“Nothing could ever compare to physically holding you in my arms,” he paused, hugging me tightly, “seeing your face right before me,”—he traced my lips with his finger—“or being able to kiss your luscious lips.”

He leaned in then, adding action to his words, and kissed me, but only for a short moment, without even the time to add in my contribution.

I sighed, nuzzling my face into his neck, “I’m sorry for ruining your clothes.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m touched by your efforts to get here, especially in this weather. I was worried about you, really,” he glanced at me, concern written on his face, “Although it is nice that I got to see you earlier, I wouldn’t have minded waiting until tomorrow, when the weather was better. What you did was very risky.”

“I was desperate, Minho,” I almost whined, “I-I missed you so much. I had to see you tonight. I wanted to see you as soon as I got home. I wish I could have taken you with me on that trip, but it was forbidden. The only part of that trip I enjoyed was when I was talking with you on the phone, or asleep, with dreams about you playing in my head. It was so foreign to me, not being able to see you every day.”

Minho looked crushed, but grateful at the same time. I could feel myself getting upset, thinking about those weeks that I was away on a trip due to work purposes. I hated it; I hated being away from him. I felt so unsafe, so unloved with him being there with me. I was liked by a lot of people, sure, but nobody ever gave me as much love or admired me as much as Minho did, every single day of my existence since we first started seeing each other.

“Jonghyun . . .” shock and appreciation was written in his voice, “I really mean that much to you?”

“Of course,” I gasped, “don’t you feel the same about me?”

“You do,” he retorted, “you mean more than you will ever know.”

“I’m glad to know that,” I smiled. I felt his hand slide up my back, over my neck, and rested on my head, my wet hair. He had his eyes gazing up at the ceiling, thinking over what I had told him. We laid there in silence for a long while, simply thinking, listening to nothing but each other’s silent breathing and quick-paced heartbeats. It was near one in the morning, and I could feel myself drifting, growing more and more light-headed and sleepy.

“Ah, you wet puppy,” he broke the silence, “do you want to change before falling asleep on me?”

I groaned, shaking my head, speaking in a barely audible voice, “No, I can’t.” 

“I don’t want you to be freezing when you wake up.”

“I’ll be fine . . .”

“Whatever you say, sleepy,” he breathed out a slight laugh. I was too exhausted to show any emotion or even move at the time. I felt him shift our position, my eyes closed, and suddenly, my shirt was being lifted over my head. I heard it being tossed across the room as he laid back down, shifting his weight downward, dragging something up, which I had assumed was a blanket, and laid it over us. Even though my hair was still wet and my pants were still damp, I felt warm. I trailed my hand up his body, noticing he was no longer wearing a shirt as well, and placed on hand on his chest, clutching is slightly and blushing a bright shade of red as I took into realization that we were both half , bare chests pressing against each other. 

I nuzzled my face into his neck once again, planting a small kiss on it, and muffled, “I love you, Min.”

“I love you too, Jonghyun,” his fingers were trailing through my hair, lulling me to sleep, “I’m taking you places tomorrow. We have a lot of catching up to do, and we might as well start as soon as possible.”

I barely even moved my head as I attempted to nod. I was already more focused on the dream world than reality, and I was positive that I wasn’t going to remember what he had just told me when I wake up in the morning.

“Goodnight, my beautiful love,” he kissed the top of my head as a last notion, and with that, we were both asleep, held in each other’s tight embrace, with much to do and look forward to ahead of us for tomorrow.